


For The Last Time, It's A Fucking Gun

by Banananutloaf4life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Also while in class, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, But I did edit it, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'll add more tags when I think of them, I'm sorry if it sucks, Not Beta Read, Scary Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banananutloaf4life/pseuds/Banananutloaf4life
Summary: The Asset is a weapon. He follows his orders without question. But there's one malfunction that he never reports.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	For The Last Time, It's A Fucking Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Teen for language. I don't even know where this came from, it just popped into my head and I couldn't not write it.

The Asset stares down at the child in front of him with complete and utter confusion. The boy was maybe 6 years old and was stuffed into a little suit that he did not care for at all, going by the grass stains on the knees. The kid blinks up at him.

"Who're you? What's that in your pocket?"

The Asset actually scans his surroundings to make sure the child isn't speaking to someone else that it had somehow failed to notice. After all, a child _shouldn't_ be this nonchalant about talking to a weapon covered in the blood of the man it had killed.

On second thought, maybe the child is simply too young to understand. After all, the body isn’t exactly visible from there.

"Mr.? I really wanna know what's in your pocket."

The Asset stares at him for another second before responding, "It's a gun." It's voice is raspy from disuse, but the boy doesn't seem to notice. 

"Oh. My father makes guns. Did he make yours?"

The Asset turns away. "I don't know."

"You're leaving?"

The Asset pauses. For the barest instant, he remembers a skinny body and laughing blue eyes. In the same moment, a bit of warmth, ever so foreign, forms and pours off his tongue. "Yes. You should leave too, kid. And forget you ever saw me."

He almost doesn't hear the whispered, "Ok." Or the light footsteps leaving the room. That foreign warmth twists sharply, painfully, before dissolving as if it had never been.

He doesn't report this malfunction.

* * *

They next meet when the boy is in college. He’s wearing another suit, but it’s far better taken care of.

The boy's - no, teen’s - eyes narrow at the hulking silhouette in the empty store room far from the gaudy revelry of the New Year's Eve party. Then the suspicion transforms into recognition, even amusement.

"I don't believe we've met, but I'm curious. What might that be in your pocket?"

The Asset huffs in amusement. "It's a gun."

The boy nods, before walking over and leaning against the railing of the balcony next to the Asset. "So didya off anyone interesting recently, Mr. It’s A Gun?"

The Asset stares at him, an eyebrow quirked.

The boy snorts. "Come on, you have to be an assassin or something. You literally have blood on you right now. My question stands."

The Asset turns away, not dignifying that with an answer. He silently jumps off the balcony, the boy watching him with eyes far too tired for one his age.

* * *

The next time they meet, the boy has grown into a man. He’s wearing a suit yet again.

They meet on a roof this time. And the man’s drinking. He somehow notices the Asset’s presence behind him, despite the Asset’s silence. _Good, he has a decent awareness of his surroundings. And he doesn’t drink enough to lose his wits._

“Huh. You again. What’s that in your pocket again?”

The Asset only leans against the wall, crossing his arms. There is a bitterness in the man’s tone that had never been there before. He gestures out at the city, and despite the alcohol, moves in a very controlled manner.

“All those people down there. The ones I get to meet are all greedy bastards. I own everything it’s possible to own, but I can’t meet a single real person. Except Rhodey.” He turns around. “And I guess you.”

The Asset tilts his head in confusion. “The Asset is a weapon, not a person.”

The man turns around to stare at him. “No, you’re not.”

The Asset is unwilling to argue the point. “It’s a gun,” he said instead. “A weapon for the weapon.”

He turns to leave, but stops at the man’s quiet laugh. “You truly believe that. But then you go and say something like that which proves the falsehood.”

The Asset simply jumps off the roof.

* * *

When the Asset next sees the man, he is in sweatpants and a tank top. These make it easy to see that he is no longer entirely whole. 

“It hurts,” the man says. “It hurts just to see it in the mirror.” He turns to look at the Asset. “I think I understand how it is that you feel like a weapon. Now I feel it too.”

The Asset has no answer.

The man tries to smile. “So, what is that thing sticking out of your pocket?”

The Asset’s response is quiet. “It’s a gun. You should carry one too.”

The man turns away, pouring himself another drink from the bottle sitting on the railing of the balcony.

“Don’t worry. I have something better.”

* * *

Incongruously, the man is the one to seek out the Asset the next time.

“Hey.” The Asset looks over from where he is sitting on the roof of some apartment building, legs dangling over the edge. He hums in acknowledgement.

“So what’s that in your pocket?” The Asset huffs a laugh at the familiar question.

“It’s a gun. Obviously.”

They are silent for a moment

“I’m not a weapon. Or at least, I don’t think I am.” _Not anymore_ , is what he doesn’t say.

There is a faint rustling, then the man is sitting next to him.

“... good. That means that you’re ready to get free.” The man shifted. “Run. And tell me if I can help.”

The Asset nods absently.

The man scoots a bit closer, carefully touching the Asset’s flesh arm. The Asset flinches. He can’t help it. It’s the first time they’ve had physical contact, and the Asset cannot remember the last time someone touched him without intent to hurt.

But he doesn’t pull away. The man takes this as acquiescence (which it is) and leans onto the Asset entirely, head on his shoulder. They sit there in silence for a long time. They watch the sunset. Neither moves until the stars are bright in the sky and the wind becomes cold enough to bite.

They each stand and prepare to head off. Before leaving, the man pauses.

“If you are not a weapon, you are a person. If you’re a person, you need a name.”

The Asset looks at him for a long moment. “I was told… that my name was James. Before. But it doesn’t feel like me.”

The man nods in understanding. “What do you want to be called?”

The Asset tilts his head in thought. “For now… call me Winter.”

A wide grin splits the other man’s face. “Alrighty then, see ya later Winter. You can call me Tony.”

* * *

“Bucky?” Bucky snaps out of his thoughts. He looks over at his best friend.

“Yeah Stevie? Sorry, I was just remembering.” Steve looks worried.

“Something bad?” he asks anxiously.

Bucky shakes his head, smiling slightly. “No. Not something bad at all. Possibly the best moments I’ve had since I fell.”

Steve’s expression shifts to surprise. He obviously has questions, but to Bucky’s relief, he doesn’t press.

Before long, they arrive at the base, where the others are waiting on the landing pad. Bucky watches the other members of his best friend’s team warily.

“Everyone, this is Bucky,” Steve starts. “Bucky, this is everyone.” Bucky gives him a dry look. The little shit only grins at him. He turns to the others. They all seem wary of him. Especially the flying suit of armor. To be honest, he considers Ironman the most dangerous of them all.

Then the suit opens, while the air fills with the other Avengers’ protests. Steve seems shocked. And Bucky… he recognises the man who steps out.

Winter relaxes entirely. “Tony,” he says simply.

Everyone turns to stare at him. Then they swivel back to Tony, who simply gives a shit-eating grin.

“Long time no see, Winter. Say, what is that in your pocket?” And Winter loses it. He laughs the way he used to, before the Chair and the Serum and the fall in the middle of the mountains, and Tony laughs with him. Steve looks on in shock, clearly trying - and failing - to reconcile whatever reaction he’d expected with the scene playing out in front of them.

And when he can speak, Bucky says, “For the last time, it’s a fucking gun.”

“Would either of you care to explain _what the hell is going on?_ ” the Widow hisses. They both look at each other, then at her.

“Nah,” Winter shrugs.

“Not really,” Tony states noncommittally.

Then they make eye contact, and burst out laughing all over again.


End file.
